thing. Cam lived a chronically busy lifestyle. It had been that way for years. He pushed himself to survive, survived to push himself more. By doing both, he filled the endless hours in which he could never manage to sleep properly.
There was no breaking that cycle. He had to live with it. It was the only way he could live. It certainly wasn’t a cycle that lent itself to him getting into any kind of meaningful relationship with a woman. He’d proved that fact in the past.
Yet, you’re thirty-two now. What if you get hit with one of those biological urges and need to settle down, produce children or something?
Like his mother had produced and settled. Well, she’d produced.
Cam shoved the conjecture aside. It was quite pointless.
Lally took another sip of coffee and looked at him over the rim of the cup. ‘This is very nice. Thank you. I have to admit, I hang out for my first dose of coffee each morning.’ She gestured towards the far side of the building. ‘The work crew seem to know what they’re doing. If they keep on at that cracking pace, the work will be done quickly.’
‘That’s my goal.’ Cam glanced towards the crew and then let his gaze trail slowly back over the courtyard area; a small frown formed between his brows. ‘I’m not quite sure what to do out here. It needs something.’ He didn’t know what; surely getting the place organised into apartments was enough anyway?
He was only going to rent or sell them, so what did it matter if he thought the courtyard lacked soul? ‘I want to have the pool converted so it’s heated for year-round use. The courtyard and surrounding gardens need to be brought up to scratch as well.’
‘The place will be a hive of activity for the next while.’
They ate in silence for a few moments. Cam watched Lally’s delicate movements, observed the straightness of her back in the wrought-iron chair.
Her fingers were lovely. If Cam had to create a female love-interest for his book, she would have hands like Lally’s, he decided. They’d look good wrapped around a gun, a champagne glass or an assassin’s throat while his heroine resisted the threat with all her worth, or the woman could even be an assassin.
Cam had lots of ideas. He just couldn’t seem to hone them into something coherent. He cleared his throat. ‘The duties list…’
‘Do you have a written list for me?’ Lally asked her question at the same time.
They stopped and each took a sip of their coffee. Lally drew a breath that lifted her small breasts beneath the cowl-neck top. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, as it had been yesterday.
Her top was sleeveless, and Cam wanted to stroke his fingers over the soft smoothness of her skin. She had strength in those slender arms, despite her small size. So much for deciding he wasn’t going to notice her appeal.
While Lally nibbled on a bite of tomato, Cam fished a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. ‘I’ve jotted down a few basics for now.’ He handed it across the table to her.
While she read, he got on with his meal.
Lally finished the last of her tomato and egg while she read through the duties list. Though his gaze wasn’t on her, she felt his consciousness of her, and had to force herself to concentrate on the words in front of her.
The list included taking care of his laundry, cleaning the apartment, meals and changing the linens. She would be in charge of his mobile phone during the hours he was writing, take messages and make the decision as to whether to interrupt him or not depending on what messages came through from his Sydney business.
There were a few lines about how to deal with the work crew, but he mostly wanted to handle that for himself.
‘That all seems very reasonable.’ Lally glanced up.
‘I may ask for other duties as time progresses. Once the crew begins to get the apartments up to speed, I may send you in to clean them ready for occupation.’
‘I’ll be glad to do that.’ Lally wanted to work hard for him. ‘I like to keep busy. The task doesn’t matter, just so long as I’m occupied.’
Had she made herself sound boring?
Why would it matter if you had, Latitia? You’re his housekeeper. You don’t have to be interesting, just productive and helpful.
‘I’m good at multi-tasking through phone calls.’ Lally’s phone usually ran hot with calls and text messages. Yet, in the beaded bag at her feet, her phone was still and silent. The contact from her family had all but stopped since Lally had realised she was going to have to go outside normal channels to look for a job.
A man in a hard hat strode across the courtyard towards them. He stopped just short of their table. ‘Morning, Mr Travers. Sorry to interrupt, but I’m ready to discuss these plans any time you are.’ He gestured to the clipboard in his other hand. ‘The crew should be in this morning to start the work to get that swimming pool up to speed too. They’ll have to drain it, to do the work to turn it into a heated pool, but the water’s too far gone to fix by shocking it with chlorine and balancing agents, so you’re not losing anything on that score.’
Cam glanced towards the building. ‘What other plans are on for today?’
‘Makes the most sense to strip all the apartments at once, so that’s what we’ll be doing.’ The man’s gaze shifted to Lally and lingered. ‘We, eh, you don’t need any of the other apartments until all the work is done, so this’ll streamline the process.’
‘Thank you.’ The words emerged in a deeper than usual cadence. Cam frowned and then said, ‘Let me introduce you. Jordan Hayes, this is my housekeeper, Lally Douglas. Lally, meet my site manager.’
The man stuck out a hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Lally shook his hand, reclaimed her own, and got to her feet. ‘I’ll leave you both to your discussion. I’d like to get started on my workload.’ Her gaze shifted to the breakfast table. ‘I’ll clear this away once I’ve settled my belongings inside.’
Lally slipped away before Cam could think of anything to say in response, and then the site manager spoke and Cam forced his thoughts onto the work here.
Cam didn’t want to examine the tight feeling that had invaded his chest when Lally had slipped her hand into the other man’s grip. If that reaction had been possessive, Cam had no right to it. His mouth tightened. He did his best to relax his expression as he spoke to the manager. ‘We’ll go into my office and talk there. It will be a bit quieter.’
Perhaps if he tucked himself away in there after this talk—focused on the property development, checked in with his Sydney office for the morning and then attacked his writing—he would get his thoughts off fixating on a certain brand-new, temporarily employed housekeeper.
For the truth was she had looked far too good when she’d arrived this morning, pulling a bunch of suitcases along behind her while her hips swayed and her legs ate up the ground beneath her feet in long strides. Cam had noticed how good she looked, far too much.
It was one thing to do such minor and insignificant things as notice the shape of her hands, he told himself, but that noticing had to stop.
Cam led the
